But You Like How Dirty I Can Be- FrUK lemon!
by DubzNChloe
Summary: England secretly likes how dirty France can be. Mindless smut. Yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Written by Chloe.


_*laughs* I didn't know you guys liked yaoi so much! Well, here's dome more smut for you, FrUK this time. Love y'all~ review for me? -Chloe_

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France and England are at it again. Arguing. They're at the hotel that all the nations are staying at for the world meeting that will be held tomorrow.

Anyways, they're arguing. This time, about England's cooking.

"Ohonhonhon~ Angelterre, your cooking is wonderful. If you are trying to kill someone."

"Look you bloody frog, at least I know how to behave like a proper gentleman! You git!"

"Ohonhonhon~ but you like how dirty I can be." whispers the Frenchman, running a finger over the Englishman's jaw, prompting a slight shiver at both the contact and suggestive words.

England glowers at him. "I- I do not you wanker!"

France ignores him, moving closer. Too close for Arthur's liking.

"Wh- what are you doing?" he demands, reaching up to push him away.

France smirks, grabbing England's wrists in one hand and pulling him closer.

"H- hey!" the Englishman protests as Francis's lips attack his jaw.

Francis continues to ignore him, moving his head down farther, searching for the tsundere male's soft spot.

He finds it rather quickly, and nibbles it gently.

"Nnnh!" moans the smaller nation against his will.

"You like that, Arthur?" purrs Francis, feeling England grow hard against him.

England isn't sure when Francis moved to sandwich him between the Frenchman and the wall, nor when he had agreed to this. He feels himself harden and is ashamed. He's supposed to hate this stupid frog!

And yet, his manhood shamelessly forgets his pride as it stands at attention and creates a tent in his pants.

"No..." he lies breathlessly as Francis moves his arms up to hold England's wrists above his head.

"But you do." responds France, proving his point by rubbing Arthur's clothed erection.

"Ahhh~ fuck, you asshole!" groans Arthur.

"You want me to fuck your asshole?" laughs France. "Someone's eager."

"Shut up!" England growls, which turns into a breathy moan as Francis cups his crotch with one hand. England's manhood is straining to escape its cloth prison and his face is flushed as France continues sucking on his soft spot and grinding his hips against the smaller nations.

Arthur makes soft mewling noises and pushes his hips forward. Never mind any thoughts he might've had against this, never mind his pride. He needs to release and he needs it now. It's honestly starting to hurt.

"J't'aime Angelterre~." purrs France as he skillfully unbuttons and unzips England's pants with one hand.

The words make no sense to Arthur as he struggles to breathe normally, to maintain some sense of dignity. His eyes widen as cool air hits his weeping erection.

He suddenly notices that Francis isn't standing in front of him anymore. No. He's kneeling.

Arthur barely has time to make sense of this as France smiles devilishly up at him, moving to kiss the head of big Ben.

"Nnnnh!" England bucks his hips. He wants, no, NEEDS completion.

"What do you want, Arthur?" says Francis, his warm breath ghosting over England's manhood.

"Y- you know what I want!" Arthur protests, his already flushed face turning darker. His erection is red and needy, his fists clenched, his breath coming in quick pants.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you want, mon amour." says Francis idly as he runs the tip of his tongue over England's slit.

"HAH~! Please! Please!" Arthur begs.

"Please what?"

"Suck me, please, let me come! I need it! I need it so bad!"

"As you wish~." France says, moving forward to encase England's manhood in his mouth.

"AHHH~ yes! Oh, by the gods, yes!" yells the Englishman, bucking his hips into Francis's mouth.

Francis, in no mood to be choked, releases the smaller man's wrists and presses his hips to the wall to prevent those greedy hips from moving.

"AHH! HAH! NNN!" Arthur's loud moans echo through the room as his fingers tangle in France's hair, his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut.

Francis doesn't think he's seen anything quite so sexy, the way the uke man's back arches, the hickey France himself had made earlier quite obvious against the milky skin of the Englishman, the trail of drool coming from the corner of the mouth crying out his pleasure to anyone within a mile radius.

"OHHH GOD, F- Francis I'm-" the blonde's warning isn't completed as he comes into the awaiting mouth with a shout of pleasure.

The Frenchman swallows it and sits back on his haunches, watching the panting man before him come down from his orgasmic high.

As soon as England opens his green eyes, France suddenly scoops him up bridal style.

"Hey! Where the hell are we going?!" Arthur demands as Francis carries him down the hall to the bedroom.

"Hush, Angelterre." commands France, pulling off England's shirt and taking the Englishman's tie. He uses said tie to bind Arthur's hands to the bed.

"Hey!" the Brit protests.

"Shh. If you liked what I did earlier, you'll LOVE this."

England blushes furiously as France strips in a matter of seconds. His eyes widen upon seeing the 'Eiffel tower'. The bloody thing was huge! If his limited knowledge is correct, and Francis wants to put that thing inside him, the man must be mad. There's no WAY that's gonna fit.

France chuckles at England's wide eyed gaze. "Like what you see?" he purrs.

Truthfully, Francis wants to take Arthur's virginity right there, and fuck him into the mattress without hesitation. But he knows he has to be gentle with him.

Arthur blushes even harder and moves his gaze away.

Francis rummages in his bag before pulling out a bottle of lube. He moves over to the Englishman, getting on top of him.

France's hand brushes the already semi-erect English cock, prompting a cry of pleasure from the sensitive man.

Francis chuckles, coating some of his fingers in lube.

He gently plants his lips on Arthur's, running his tongue over the smaller nation's bottom lip, requesting entry.

Hesitant lips part and then part even farther in a gasp as France pushes a finger inside England.

A moan comes from England, and not one of enjoyment.

"I'm sorry, it will feel better soon, I promise." Francis whispers in his ear as he pumps the finger in and out.

The uke doesn't respond as he bites his lip.

France grows extra hard as he reflects on the fact that England is so tight on his fingers... How will he feel on his dick?

He adds another finger, prompting cries of pain as he scissors them.

Francis crooks his fingers as Arthur's cries of pain die down, determined to find the man's magical spot.

"AHHHHH!" a loud cry of intense pleasure sounds as the smaller man pushes down to meet the French fingers, his back arching, green eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling.

France smiles. "Found it~." he says, pushing his fingers there again, eliciting another cry.

"Bloody hell, what the fuck is that?" pants England.

Francis doesn't respond as he pulls out his fingers, getting a whine of displeasure.

He coats his erection with lube, head falling back with a groan from his own touch.

England watches hungrily and his erection twitches at the sound of pleasure from the other man.

As soon as the 'Eiffel tower' is slick with lubricant, Francis positions himself over Arthur with a sly smile. "Are you ready, Angelterre~?"

"J- just fucking do it you bloody idiot!" England snaps, his cock red and needy and just wanting more of that wonderful feeling.

France chuckles and lines himself up with Arthur's entrance. As he slowly pushes in, he murmurs curses in French at how hot and tight the smaller man is.

Beads of sweat roll down Arthur's face and he curses quite a bit himself as he attempts to get used to this new and foreign feeling of being filled.

The Frenchman holds himself still, waiting for England to get used to the size of him even though every instinct is screaming at him to thrust into that tight heat and fuck his rival silly.

"M... Move." England commands at last.

With a groan, Francis does so.

The Englishman cries out with every thrust as the larger man hits his prostate head on every time.

France is enjoying himself quite a bit as well, thrusting for all he's worth, spurred on by the noises of the man beneath him. The smaller man pushes his hips down to meet the other frantically as he lets out loud curses and half finished exclamations, moans and gasps escaping him without thought.

Francis reaches up to untie the tie, prompting a whine from Arthur at the slowed movement. The former plants a kiss on the Englishman's forehead and moves faster than ever.

France wraps a hand around England's manhood, pumping his hand in time with his thrusts.

Soon, the smaller nation can't hold out any longer and he comes with a cry of Francis's name, white liquid splattering on their chests.

French curses fall from Francis's lips as Arthur tightens around him. He groans and releases into the man.

He pulls out and falls onto the bed beside him.

"You... Bloody... Idiot..." England pants. "What... Will... The others think... About this damn hickey?!"

"Ohonhonhon~ who cares? It's a mark that you're mine~ j't'aime Angelterre~"

There's grumbling from England's end that sounds vaguely like "I love you too, wanker."

Francis laughs, pulling the blankets over him and his English lover.

~fin~


End file.
